


Lace

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-29 00:04:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21400870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Tom tries to make a fantasy happen.
Relationships: Harry Kim/Tom Paris
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	Lace

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The doors close behind them, and Tom’s on Harry like Tuvok on logic. He shoves Harry back against the wall, his knee slamming between Harry’s thighs and his tongue plunging between Harry’s lips. Harry recovers from the shock with impressive speed, then surges back, fingers digging into Tom’s shoulders and hips rutting forward. They make out like teenagers and grind against the wall, making up for lost time—Tom’s wanted this all shift. He sustained himself on dirty fantasies that could never compare to the real thing. Harry feels so _good_ in his arms. Warm, soft, but hard in all the right places. Harry’s _hot_, and Tom loves it. 

Tom opens his mouth to breathe, “I wanna see you in panties.” Harry stops, but Tom keeps going fiercely for both of them, nipping at Harry’s parted lips. He doesn’t have the will power to start with foreplay. He did all that in his head already. He kisses his way to Harry’s ear and growls into it, “I wanna dress you up in those nice, frilly, old-fashioned delicate shit that used to drive men _wild_.”

Harry groans, probably more from Tom rutting into him than anything Tom’s saying. Tom runs his hands down Harry’s body, squeezing his chest, tracing his hips, then reaching back to dig into his ass so hard that Harry actually yelps. Tom pushes, “I want to tuck your dick into a cute little pair of pink panties, and wrap your thin waist up in a corset, pull it nice and tight—”

“You’re so weird,” Harry moans, but there’s no actual judgment in his voice. Tom kisses Harry’s throat just the way he likes it. Harry squirms in Tom’s arms, clearly every bit as into it as Tom is. 

Tom begs, “Please, Harry? Wear some pretty old-school panties for me?”

Harry laughs, though it’s a shaky one, interrupted by more gasps and a languid groan as Tom grinds their clothed cocks together. Harry mutters, “F-fine... go replicate them...”

If he could’ve, Tom would’ve already—he would’ve had them waiting, or sent them to Harry in a nice, wrapped package. Instead, he keeps feeling Harry up and mumbles, “Uh, I might be a little low on rations this week... you’ll do them for me, won’t you?”

Harry’s brows knit together in the first sign of resistance. Tom whines, “Please?”

But Harry can be firm when he wants to be, and he frowns. “No. I’m not going to waste my replicator rations on that.”

“But _I_ can’t, you know I’m working on my TV—”

“Tom, it’s your idea.”

“And you’re the one who’s supposed to wear them.”

Harry blushes and counters, “Well, why do I have to wear them?”

They’ve stopped rolling into one another. Their hips have gone still, though they’re both still prominently had. Tom stares at Harry a few seconds longer, hoping Harry will give in. But he doesn’t. 

So Tom sighs, “Well, It was a nice thought.” Then he drags Harry to his bedroom, Starfleet issue boxer-briefs and all.


End file.
